


I'll be yours

by Astray



Series: The Apocalypse Officers [9]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Biting, Dirty Talk, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 13:39:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13952748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astray/pseuds/Astray
Summary: Wolffe needs to get out of his head. The last mission had gone to Hell. So he reaches out to the one person he trusts with that - someone who is not Pack, but has a knack for making him mindless - Fox.And while things don't quite go the way he has expected, he is not going to complain.





	I'll be yours

**Author's Note:**

> Edeemir - bite  
> Kar'ta - heart
> 
> [Fox calls Wolffe 'bite' because I wanted a Mando'a equivalent to 'Chew']

The 104th was supposed to be on leave. Actually, they were supposed to be on leave since last week. Not their fault that Seppies thought that rest was for clankers. And he was all the madder that it had been a damn miracle they got out of that mess with minimal losses - even if, to him, each of them was one too many. Even if he knew they were considered disposable and all that dumb shit that apparently was fed to soldiers in every system, clone or not. Not that Wolffe was bitter. Or on edge. They were now moving back to Coruscant, and he commed Fox, asking him if they could see each other when he got there. So now he had an appointment - ah, like it was work-related - with the man. Even if he was taking comfort in the pack. In the way he ended up pressed between Paws and Sinker. It was not quite the same. 

Comet was draped all over Koma - Comet had taken a few hits and Wolffe had not missed how their  _ vod’ika _ had looked once they made it back. The terror of losing someone he loved. Maybe it was for the best that neither medics cleared Koma for the field. He did participate in training when it happened, and he had proven a great sharpshooter, but Wolffe was not risking him on the field now. Actually, he was not going to risk Koma at any point. If he were completely honest, Wolffe was not ready to lose any more men, and each deployment took a toll on him. Even if their general was far from being reckless, but instead worked to ensure minimal casualties, the realities of war were what they were. Wolffe could only be relieved that he was under General Koon’s command and not someone like Skywalker. He was not sure he would have managed what Rex did without trying to knock the Jedi out at least thrice a day. 

Wolffe sat besides their general for the remainder of the trip. There was something very soothing about Plo Koon’s presence, and Wolffe was glad that their Jedi often accepted to stay with them. He closed his eyes - he would be alert in no time, but the dark really helped him settled down. It was easy to sink, sink in that state where he could be floating and resting, and even if he understood that it was a sort of illusion created by his general, Wolffe was grateful for it. He rested until they got out of hyperspace and reached Coruscant. Getting off transports near their barracks saw them in various states of exhaustion. Paws was supporting Fang and Worst, and Wolffe expected them to end up piled together. Or get dragged into one by other medics. After all, if Wolffe took badly to all losses on the field, unlike the medics, he did not have to see  _ vode  _ die even after trying everything to save them. And this time, at least five of them asked the medics not to save them, just give them enough to fall asleep. Fang had done it. And he had not slept since. On impulse, Wolffe reached them and wrapped an arm around Fang. The pained sigh it earned him was not good, and he cast a glance at Paws. He tilted his head, asking in silence what he could do for them. 

“I’ll get them both to Trio and the others. He needs some time away for now.” 

Koma appeared at their sid, obviously concerned. “It’s not your fault-”

“We know that,  _ vod’ika _ . And we won’t be gone for long. It’s just, time with people who are in our position. You watch over them for us?”

“Aye.” Koma gave both medics a tight hug- as much as possible where Paws was concerned, considering the size difference. 

“Wolffe,” said Fang once their  _ vod’ika _ was out of earshot, “just go to Fox. Everything is sorted out. Boost and Sinker are here and we’re not far. You come back when you don’t feel the way I sound.” And truly, Fang’s voice was raspy and dead, the words a terrifying monochrome in the landscape of sounds. Grey. Grey like their designs. Like the skies. Like the ships. The ground. The barracks. Grey. Hand on his neck, shaking him. Paws. 

“Go.”

“ _ Vor’e, vod _ .”

He stayed behind long enough to shower, allowing the brothers present to reach out to him - he could not deny them when they were all so shaken. And even if the grime and earth and blood and sweat had gone down the drain, his skin clean and dried, it all still clung to him. He was not even sure he would ever feel completely clean again. He could not tell them that. He could not have them worry about him. So he shoved the thought to the back of his consciousness and got ready. He took non-descript civilian clothes. He was on leave. Blacks were not an option, and even if his face, his scar, marked him for who he was, he just did not want to broadcast it anymore than strictly necessary. 

His comm blinked. Fox. Wolffe’s stomach clenched, thinking for an instant that Fox was cancelling - even if that was preposterous. He shook himself. He was really in too deep, or at least he was sinking. Turned out that Fox was asking him to come over to his ‘place’ - that was, the place Fox bought - the man was close enough to be a real estate agent, what with owning 79’s and helping Chi’da and Silais getting their restaurant. It was close to their barracks but far enough that it gave the guards an illusion of being on leave. Away from their regular quarters. 

Wolffe hit Fox up, telling him he would be there shortly, and set out to meet him. It was unusual for Fox to invite him here. They usually met at 79’s. Or at Fox’s office, when Fox was not the one showing up at the barracks. He was there in record time, and Fox gave him the access codes to the building. They were on the two top floors. Fox’s place was on the top floor.

Once he got there he was greeted by the sight of Fox decked in leather. Or what looked like it. And Fox was looking grim, although he was clearly not in character yet - he was holding two glasses of a clear liquid that could be water or Weequay vodka, for all that Wolffe could see. 

“I’m not sure this would be okay with you, but you sounded like your brain needed some time out.”

Wolffe swallowed. He had not even considered that under that light, but… “What do you have in mind?”

Fox extended him a glass and took a sip, as he went around Wolffe to close the door. Wolffe did the same - water it was, but cool and almost sweet. 

“I could…” Fox stepped closer to Wolffe, shoulder to shoulder, talking low in his ear. “I could make sure you don’t have to do a thing. You’ve been so good to me when I needed to get out of my head. It’s only fair.”

“You don’t have to.” 

Finger on his lips - he resisted the urge to nip the digit. Leather. Gloves. His heart leapt. 

“I don’t. But I want to. Or I can just let you take charge. But even you need a break.” With that, Fox went back to face Wolffe, laying the glass on the table and removing his gloves. He ran a hand in his hair. It was longer than last time. And Fox did look tired - he never looked completely rested, Wolffe knew. Just like he knew that he had a near permanent scowl from being tense and alert all the time. He was tense, even now, even now that he was safe, with someone who understood his position. 

A closer look indicated that Fox was fidgeting. It was very subtle, but he kept shifting his weight, obviously restraining himself. It dawned on Wolffe that he would have to voice what he needed, because Fox would not know in his stead. Wolffe took the steps that separated them, put his glass next to Fox’s and gently put his hands on Fox’s face. He kissed him - and even if he did try to be gentle, it took no time for them to be desperately clawing at each other. He had missed Fox, missed his presence, his clever touch, the way he felt against him. Beautiful, devilish, Fox. And there were emotions he had not named. Affection, and longing, and something deeper, and it came forward now. 

He needed to let go. He could trust Fox. He desperately needed to stop thinking. And so he did. Hands on his back - a gesture he mirrored - wanting to get to Fox’s skin. Mark him - be marked by him. Another kiss - hunger blooming like fire. 

“Get me out of my head then,  _ Fox’ika _ . Do it. Please.”

“As you wish,  _ Edeemir _ .” Lingering kiss, until Fox stepped away from him, the tiredness seemingly bleeding from his face and stance as he stood there, business-like. “Finish your water. There is more in the room, but you have to be hydrated. Have you eaten properly?”

Wolffe nodded - and was met with Fox’s sharp glare. “Yes, I have, sir.”

Fox smiled and reached out to caress his cheek. “Very good. Now, come with me.”

Fox picked up his gloves and put them back on, and walked back through a corridor that led to his room. The room was set in golden light - candles and the lowest light setting. Dark fabric - perhaps red and black, or any other colour, it was too dark for Wolffe to tell which it was. Pillows neatly stacked to the head of a bed that could easily accommodate four adults. 

“I’m going to undress you. Do no move, please.” The tone of command prevented Wolffe from arguing that he could do it himself. Fox faced him, and began to undo his shirt. The soft black leather dragging slightly on Wolffe’s skin - cooler than his skin still. And once all the fastenings were deal with, Fox slowly pushed the fabric from his shoulders. His eyes roaming Wolffe’s skin - checking for new wounds and scars, probably. But Fox was clearly hungry and it sent a spark of desire along Wolffe’s spine. 

“You’re so stunning. I understand why you would need to mark and bite your willing partners, because this is exactly what I want to do to you. Sink my teeth into your shoulder as I rut against you. You know I would. Just not right now.” Wolffe breathed in sharply, the image vivid and burning in his mind. Fox smiled, pleased and feral. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Knowing how you drive me mad.” His gloved right hand resting on his throat, thumb on his Adam’s apple, pressing oh-so slightly. “I want to drive you mad.” Fox moved swiftly, landing a bite right under Wolffe’s jaw - light, possessive. 

Gloved hands dragging down his chest as Fox explored his skin - as though he was mapping the terrain - as though they had never had sex. His touch was sensual, but there was no urgency. Taking his time. The shirt was completely discarded when Fox stepped behind Wolffe and he was so close Wolffe could feel heat radiating from him. Fox put his hands on his shoulders, stroking his arms in slow motions, distracting him. And down his back, applying pressure on the sides of his spine, his neck, his sides. The leather heating him. Until Fox pressed himself against his back - the thin shirt seeming hotter somehow between his skin and Fox’s. Lips on his neck, light kisses, and part of Wolffe wanted Fox not to be so gentle while the other craved the attention. 

“Close your eyes,  _ Edeemir _ . Just feel.” Hands moving to his stomach, Fox still flushed against his back and Wolffe could not possibly ignore the way it felt. His pants slowly worked open. The leather caught on his skin. “Turn around for me?” 

Wolffe did as he was told, moving slowly. And was rewarded by Fox’s praise whispered against his lips before he kissed him. “Bear with me a little while.” Fox kissed him again, and Wolffe let him take the lead, moaning when Fox sucked on his tongue - and damn, that one went straight to his cock. He shifted, seeking contact, and Fox did not move away. Fox let go with a sharp nip to his lower lip. Again, he set out to caress his way down Wolffe’s body, careful, varying pressure, His touch heavier to the hollow of his hips and lower abdomen, making Wolffe freeze in anticipation. 

Fox smoothly sank to his knees, dragging Wolffe’s pants and underwear with him. He motioned him to step out of them, which Wolffe did. Fox then stroked his legs, from ankle to knee, tracing symmetrical patterns that Wolffe could not wrap his mind around. Having his eyes closed, sensations were heightened and it was like his skin stretched under Fox’s touch, and he lost track of time or where he was. All that mattered was how smooth leather felt on his skin, catching and dragging, creating friction - heat. Warming him, tendrils of heat delving under his skin. He shivered when he felt Fox kiss his hip, mouthing at his hipbone as his hands slowly crept up his inner thigh - the contrast between the teeth biting into him and the contact of leather on the thin, sensitive skin of his legs heady. 

He wanted more, so much more - but at the same time, he did not want to ask. To just let Fox handle him. It was reassuring. And nothing like with Cody. It was not about control. It was about caring. Taking care of him. Not enforcing his will. He breathed in deep - a fragrance tickling his sense of smell - something he knew but could not place. The scent was warm. Fox laid a kiss a close to his cock without touching Wolffe. Wolffe bit down a whimper, need choking him for an instant, just before it let go. 

“Look at me.” And he did. He found he could not breathe for the sight of Fox kneeling in front of him, still completely dressed, his hair impeccable, and his expression shattering the perfect surface. Desire was etched deep into every line of his face. His eyes. And damn Fox for worrying that piercing on his lip - he took it out for work, and it was discreet. But right now, in the dancing light of candles, its reflection was a beacon. 

Fox slowly rose, kissing his way up Wolffe’s stomach and chest, eyes pinning him the whole time. He kept his hands on Wolffe’s hips, and he was so close, Wolffe wanted nothing more than draw Fox tight against him. He wanted Fox. To touch him. Kiss him. But right now, Fox was in charge. 

Fox’s left hand cupping him lightly as he started speaking again, his accent thicker. “I want to mark you, Wolffe. My way.”

“Please.” His voice was strained. 

Fox stroked him a couple of times, the texture of his glove exhilaratingly rough on his cock, making Wolffe shiver. “Get on the bed then, on your belly.” 

Wolffe did as he was told, the bedspread blessedly cool and so soft it felt liquid on his body. He heard a rustle, and looked up to see Fox putting his gloves down on a nearby table. He noticed then that there was water, two glasses, and a bowl with apparently food in it. How he had not noticed before surprised him, but he had been so focused on Fox… Fox who was rolling his sleeves up to his elbows and the light made every line on his hands and arms stand out in black ink. Bones and tendons and veins, barely visible in a normal light were now in sharp contrast. The careful movements, the economy with which Fox reached out for a plump clay vial. It was entrancing. 

“I am going to give you a rub down with that oil.” 

Having Fox state was he was going to do was a huge turn on for Wolffe, and his mind was slowly easing into a slight haze. Sensations were all that mattered. How the golden light felt warm even if he was too far to feel the heat of the candles. How the air of the room shifted with each of Fox’s moves. How the fabric slipped under him - barely touching water or so it seemed. The darkness that felt warm. How heavy his body felt on that soft mattress - and yet, its support was firm, keeping him from sinking into it. He hummed his assent, and closed his eyes without being prompted this time. Allowing Fox to take charge completely. 

The bed dipped, and Fox straddled Wolffe’s thighs. He was still dressed. Warm oil was poured on his spine, from neck to sacrum. And then, Fox proceeded to massage the oil into his skin, and sure, Fox was not Paws - there was no match for Paws - but the knowledge that it was Fox, his lover, carefully working the tension out of his muscles made up for it. He sighed when Fox began to work the muscles on the sides of his spine. It turned into a moan when Fox reached his sacrum, applying just enough pressure for Wolffe to feel the tension and pain fall away from him like water. 

Fox shifted, and it was clear that he was aroused. Yet, he made no move to ease the obvious discomfort he was in. His hands rubbing oil as deep into his skin as possible, massaging his shoulders and neck - down his back and up again, until Wolffe felt himself melting into the mattress. 

“So relaxed for me,  _ Edeemir _ .” With that, Fox shimmied away from him, and more oil was applied - Fox taking his time massaging his lower back, and Wolffe would have called him out on the overkill that was oiling up his ass, but the feeling was very pleasant. And sparked another blast of desire at the implication. He just could not speak, whining low in his throat and that devil teased him slightly - only to move down his thighs and calves, smoothing oil down. Whatever Fox had in mind, it really called for that bedspread. 

“I’m going to pour wax on you, marking you. Would you like that?”

Wolffe choked - the sheer perspective of having Fox marking him with that. He had heard of wax being used, but never experimented with it himself. Candles were a fire hazard in the barracks. 

“It’s okay if you’d rather not, love. And if you still want to try but stop before I’m done, it’s good too. Just say that word.”

“Malevolence.” It was the same as with Cody. It seemed easier that way. And that word held more weight than any other. 

Fox bent over his back, kissing the nape of his neck and his jaw. “Good man.”

“Mark me, please.”

“Please-?”

“Please sir. Mark me. I’m yours.” And he was and had not planned to say that but he was. He was Fox’s in a way he would never have expected and it was overwhelming but there was no way he would take these words back. He did not miss the way Fox breathing hitched, or how he rolled his hips against Wolffe. Desperation finally showing. 

“Mine.” Wolffe was unprepared for the bite the side of his neck. Possessive, hungry - he could feel every one of Fox’s teeth as they sank into his skin, pain flaring - and as Fox let go slowly, replaced by the pooling warmth of his blood rushing to the bite. Wolffe whined low in his throat. It was heady. 

Fox licked the bite, kissed it, before he spoke again. “I have wax. Red. And black. Seemed fitting. I’ll start with the red.” Wolffe shivered in anticipation when Fox moved away- probably to retrieve the candles. The black one was offered to him. It was not lit yet. Maybe it was a bit risky. 

“The bedspread is fire-proof. But mind the wax.” Wolffe reached out to hold the fat candle steady with his right hand, using his left arm to keep himself from moving. Only then did Fox light it. Wolffe was immediately transfixed by the flame, how bright it was against the dark background. 

“The red is pooling nicely. I’ll start with your shoulder.” 

The first drops of wax made him flinch. It was hotter than he had thought it would be. The next ones were cooler. Fox asked him if it was better now - and all Wolffe managed was a choked ‘yes’ when a line of hot wax poured across his shoulder blades.

Gradually, Wolffe got used to it. The initial heat of the wax, the way it slid on his skin, sluggish as it cooled. He did not move, for fear to crack the design. Fox had it pooling along his spine and it was like being claimed and it was so erotic. Fox kept this mark up to his sacrum, and kissed him there, his mouth hot close to the cooling wax. Teasing. 

“You’re so beautiful, drenched in red. The way you hold so perfectly still. The way your skin shines from the oil.” A sigh, and Wolffe did not need to look to know Fox was pressing his hand to his clothed cock. “Gods, Wolffe, I want you. Want to eat you out until you scream. Until there is not a thought in your head but my mouth on you.”

Wolffe moaned at this, his imagination running wild. How it would feel. He shifted minutely, the friction of the bedspread on his heated flesh making it even more unbearable. With his movement, black wax overflowed on his hand.

“I’m going to pour some more red on you. Hold still for me.” And just like that, Fox went back to his task. Heat dripped across his ass, and Fox was very careful to make it drip down to the bedspread, lines running across his skin to his hips. Fox whispering filth - what he would do to Wolffe, how perfect he would feel under his mouth and tongue, how much Fox would love driving Wolffe mindless - each word another stab of pleasure into Wolffe’s body, until he had to ask Fox to stop - or to do something.

He was faintly aware of rustling sounds, of Fox shifting. An oiled hand on his thigh creeping upwards. “You gave me an idea.” The hand left, more oil - this time directly poured on his skin - on the cleft of his ass. The red candle was placed on the table next to him. He could see it. Fox directed his movements, getting Wolffe to spread his thighs further. The motion forced him to arch his back - and damn, he felt more exposed, more vulnerable than he could have had when they had started. Fox slowly spread him open and the wax cracked slightly, pulling at his skin. Deft fingers working the lube - it felt like oil, but clearly was not - into him, slowly breaching him. The sensation compounded with all the rest made for heightened sensations and he shuddered. More black flowed. Wolffe bit his lips. It felt too good, and it was not enough. Fox added another finger, making him sigh. 

Fox got the red candle back and then it was hard for Wolffe to know what destroyed him fastest - if it was the hot wax adding to the rest and running down his sides, or Fox’s fingers slowly fucking him, pressure varying as he inched closer and closer - and never close enough to that one spot - or the fact that Fox was a bastard with enough coordination to drip wax in the same sequence as his strokes. 

He was breathing harshly, and he was so tense he was almost shaking, trying to resist the urge to just press back against Fox. The black wax now coating his hand. The flame was dancing…

“You feel so good, trembling like that, your ass clenching around my fingers. Gods, you’d feel so good around my cock.” Wolffe moaned loudly - he could not help it. He wanted this. Even as Fox said this. He wanted him, so desperately. He wanted this, wanted to be filled, and owned, and give it all up to Fox. 

“And I just might. But I said I wanted to see black on you as well.” 

“Damnit, Fox.” He was straining to remain still. 

With one last brush of his fingers - so close - so damn close - Fox let go of him. Wolffe cursed - loudly - at him for being evil. Which only earned him a chuckle. 

Fox got up to look at him. “You know, seeing you like this, I wonder if black is necessary. I think I’ll take a holo to show you. You’re perfect.” 

Wolffe did not move until Fox came back to gently pry the black candle from his hand, and replacing it with the red one. “Do not spill this one.” It was an order, more than anything. But Wolffe did not quite resist asking Fox what would be the consequences. 

“If you spill it, I’ll just delay your orgasm a bit more. Nothing you can’t handle, but you’re already so strung out…” Fox cupped his jaw to make him tilt his head. His kiss was hungry and absolutely filthy and Wolffe panted into Fox’s mouth when the movements increased the friction on his cock. He still managed not to move his hands.

“Tease.” It was all that Wolffe could get out at this point. 

Fox smiled against his lips, and nipped at him gently. “How about I fuck you while coating your tattoo with black wax, just to give you something to think about and make holding that candle a bit tougher?”

“Fox.” Wolffe screwed his eyes shut, breathing as deep as he dared. 

“I will take care of you,  _ ner’edeemir _ . And when you are spent, I will clean you up. And I’ll keep you until it’s time for you to leave. Mine.” Wolffe heard something in Fox’s voice - an intonation that had not been there - never in such a noticeable way. 

“Do not move.” The whispered command followed by the unmistakable weight of the candle laid on the hollow of his back, near his shoulder blades. Heat from the flame radiating - he concentrated on it, how it softened the wax, and let it run more. He could practically see it - golden light shifting - just like the one in front of him. Sounds indicating that leather was being shed - and he almost asked Fox to keep his clothes on. But when Fox had returned, his bare thighs touching his, Wolffe decided it was better that way. His skin felt cooler. More oil.

“Stay still. We should not spill the wax yet.” Fox’s hands teasing him again, spreading his ass - anticipation burning the air in his lungs. His breath caught when he felt Fox’s cock rub against his ass - just teasing - but he needed more and he could not move and it was torture. 

“Fox.”

Fox did not reply, but instead, Wolffe felt him lining up, and slowly - agonisingly so - pushed into him. And yes, he was prepared. But no amount of preparation could dull the sensation of Fox’s cock breaching him, filling him. The sensation expanded, and nothing existed, not the candle in his hand, the flame obscuring everything around it, the creaking wax on his back. Fox’s hand on the candle, steadying it, as Wolffe trembled - some of the wax poured on his back, much hotter than before. He whimpered. Torn between the burn that glowed and expanded, a bubble in his mind, and Fox’s merciless moves that suddenly stopped. 

“You’re so beautiful like that, Wolffe. All that wax, the light of candles. Taking all of my cock inside you… you’re so tight, you make me breathless.The way you clenched when that wax touched your skin...”

“Yours. Fox, please.” He was Fox’s. Desperately, and even without the adrenaline, the endorphins, the thought slammed into him with a clarity that could blind him for a moment. 

“Mine.” The candle was lifted and -  _ fuck _ , Fox bent forward, pressing deeper into him, until he could nip at Wolffe’s earlobe. “You’re mine,  _ Edeemir. _ Mine.” And with that, he bit into Wolffe’s shoulder, the pain all encompassing and too bright for an instant, before warmth pooled there. Fox snapped his hips forward, and fuck, he needed more. More of that delicious friction, the pressure building into him. He would not need much more to come. He tried to move, to rut against the mattress. Only to have Fox stop moving and land a hard slap on his hip with his free hand. 

“No touching yourself and no rutting. You will come untouched,  _ Edeemir. _ Just my cock and the wax.” With that, Fox rose, pulling out until the head off his cock was barely pressing against his hole. Wolffe could not control the way his body spasmed, the craving eating at him.

Fox pushed back into him, steady, the angle nearly perfect to stroke him in all the right ways - and then he rolled his hips, the pressure almost too much - and drops of wax on his sacrum. Later he would ask Fox how he could keep his hand so steady as he began fucking him hard, timing the wax drops with his thrusts. Wolffe bit his arm to ground himself. 

The cool wax was pulling at his skin - it felt like getting out of a shell - hot wax spilling along his sides - combined with Fox’s moves. 

“You feel so so so perfect,  _ Edeemir. _ Your tattoo is masked now.” Fox’s voice breathy and breaking - they both were panting and fuck, every time Fox stopped moving, he could feel him - not quite pulsing, but aborted twitches. “I want to fill you. Now that your skin is marked. I want to fill you up.”

“Do it.” He could barely get the words out. “Fuck me, Fox. You feel so good.” 

More wax, on his spin, on his shoulders… And then nothing. He waited - and Fox fell on him, setting a punishing pace that got Wolffe practically howling - not pain, never pain, but relief. Fox mouthed at his neck, teeth grazing his untouched skin, braced on his right arm, the other pressing on the wax and his skin. Moved under him, caressing and scratching his skin. 

“Come for me then.” Fox’s left hand over the candle Wolffe was still holding. “Once the candle is out.” Dipped his fingers in the dripping wax - and snuffed the flame. “Come.” A whisper and the bite, overflowing wax on their hands, keeping them together, and a vicious roll of his hips - he came with a loud moan - moan that turned into a wail when Fox’s waxed hand came to rest under his cock - the friction unbearable and heated. 

Fox followed, and the sensation of Fox coming inside of him, the way his breathing stopped for an instant, the way he began shaking with the aftershocks, it all kept Wolffe on his high. He could not get back down, the intensity way too much to bear. 

Wolffe lost sense of time, and he would not be able to say if seconds or minutes had gone by, by the time Fox gently withdrew, whispering praises and thanks to him. And Wolffe did not feel like he deserved most of it. But it felt so good. The candle was pried from his hand. 

“Wolffe,  _ ner’edeemir _ . I’m going to remove the wax. And then we’ll get you all cleaned up.” Wolffe lifted his head to face Fox and kissed him. 

“Thank you,  _ ner’kar’ta _ .” 

Out of all the reactions Fox could have had, Wolffe had not expected to hear a choked sound before having an armful of Fox holding onto him. 

“You mean it, please tell me if you do, it’s breaking me.”

And it came to him. How possessive Fox had acted when they had been marking Rex. How Fox had seemed almost shy - how adamant he had been. 

“I mean it,  _ kar’ta _ . And I’m sorry it took so long.” 

“I love you.” Fox’s hands on his cheeks, and Wolffe mirrored the gesture, looking into Fox’s eyes. He saw the desperation, the pain. He had caused him pain. He had been blind to the pain he had caused him. And it must have been so hard on Fox. Fox who never relied on anyone. 

“I love you too, Fox. I’m sorry I did not pay attention.”

“Don’t be.” They stayed like that for a moment, and no matter how uncomfortable it was for him, Fox deserved this. He needed this, and Wolffe was not going to deny him. He simply held, and kissed him. They did not speak, but it was enough. They did not need to. And after a while, Fox laid a kiss on his lips, one on his scar - he had never done so before, and it was so gentle, it broke Wolffe’s heart a bit. 

Fox directed Wolffe back on his stomach, and proceeded to peel the wax off. It was a strange feeling, like being able to breathe again. Fox was very gentle, and the blade he used was not sharp - its coolness a pleasant contrast on his skin. He finished with his hand. 

Once he was done, Fox guided Wolffe to his knees, and kissed his palm, reverently, after removing the last bits of wax. 

“Thank you.” 

Wolffe touched Fox’s cheek to get him to look up. “Thank  _ you _ ,  _ ner’kar’ta _ .”

“We’re being hopelessly sappy, right?” Fox’s smile was self-deprecating, but Wolffe would not have any of that. 

“No one needs to know.” He grinned, and kissed the corner of Fox’s lips. “Besides, before that, I had many adjectives, but sappy was not one.” 

“You’re ridiculous. Shower?”

They ended up bathing, and Wolffe proceeded to care for Fox just as Fox had taken care of him. Enjoying his presence, the sounds he made when he was particularly pleased, the way he closed his eyes and purred when Wolffe massaged his scalp. The way he melted into his arms. And there was nothing new. They had had sex before. And they always had their after-care. But today was different. Because what had been there without being named was finally acknowledged. It was a weight that was lifted, even if Wolffe had not been aware of that weight in the first place. 

Fox reciprocated Wolffe’s care. The gentleness with which he cleaned his skin and the last of the wax, oil, and semen. How he gently worked the tension from his shoulders and arms. How he paid attention to the bites - and how, once they were out of the tub and dried, he had applied ointment on his skin. To rebuild moisture, and make sure the bruises would not be painful. 

How Fox had wrapped him in more warm towels as he went back to fix the bed. And when Wolffe joined him, there was a single white candle burning and it gave a subtle, soothing scent. Floral scent. It felt like fresh sunlight. Fox took the towels from him as Wolffe slid under the cover - clean, almost warm, sheets. He was back moments later, and Wolffe moved for him to put his head on his shoulder. It was Fox’s favourite aftercare place.

Only then did Fox speak again. “I was afraid. Afraid that you would leave. Or that you would not come back, once you got bored.”

Wolffe gathered Fox in his arms, running his hand on Fox’s back. “I don’t get how I could get bored with you.” He sighed. “I was not sure. I was not sure how to deal with how possessive you make me feel. Because I would not want to hold you down.”

“Same. I just… I guess I just wanted to be sure you would come back to me.”

Wolffe considered his answer carefully. He was sure of what he felt - it was a quiet certainty, the same that said that he could always rely on Plo Koon, that the Pack was here, that the affection he had for Cody and Rex was genuine. Still, he was afraid - afraid that one day, their lives would have his promise make a liar out of him and he would not make it back.

He opened his mouth to say so, but Fox beat him to it.

“I know we’re not immortal. But in the meantime-”

“I’ll come back to you,  _ ner’kar’ta. _ ” 

“And I’ll wait.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Comet would never let me live it down.”

“Have I mentioned how sappy we’re getting,”

“Let’s stop speaking.”

“Just one thing.”

“Yes?” 

Fox rose on his elbow to look at Wolffe. The candle was cutting his face in black ink.

“Let it not change the way we function.”

Wolffe nodded. “Agreed.”

And with that, Fox blew the candle and settled back against Wolffe, intertwining their legs. Wolffe stroked his hair, and pulled the covers over them. He was grateful that Fox opened up about his feelings. He was more at peace now than he had been in a while. Surrounded with quiet warmth, Fox’s soft breathing - and that soothing scent that melted his worries away.

 


End file.
